


It's Time to Ride

by thepinupchemist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Gym Sex, Gyms, Multi, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: “My condition still goes,” Bucky said. “If you talk to Kate, then I’ll talk to Steve.”America rolled her eyes. “How about this: if you talk to Steve, then I’ll talk to Kate.”Bucky owns a gym. America works at the gym. Bucky's hot for Steve. America's into Kate. Things unravel.Happy Birthday Izzy, who requested "the sluttiest Steve imaginable."





	It's Time to Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spacedog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacedog/gifts).

> For those of you that follow me for Young Avengers, you should know that this is primarily an explicit Steve/Bucky fic, with background America/Kate (not explicit).

**Soundtrack: Dead of Night – Orville Peck**

_ **It’s Time to Ride** _

“Isn’t ‘Rainbow Cowboy’ a little on the nose?” Becca had asked, when Bucky opened his gym.

“No, and fuck you,” Bucky replied, and that was that.

After the crash that took his arm, working his way back up to average, let alone pulling himself into fighting shape, took every ounce of energy and time that he had to spare between crashing on his parents’ couch and working shitty jobs that didn’t mind having a surly disabled guy on staff.

Bucky loved going to the gym. He loved the burn in his muscles and the way his breath caught in his throat. He loved the way his arms quivered when he worked himself to the edge with a strength set, and he loved the way that his thighs ached the day after a successful leg day.

He only wished that there was a better gym for people like him – gay and disabled.

So after busting his ass saving, bickering with the bank over a loan, and the painful process of herding contractors to fix up a place in a strip mall that used to be a grocery store, Bucky opened the Rainbow Cowboy Gym & Training Facility, an LGBTQIA-friendly gym that offered extensive physical therapy programs in addition to the standard spread of cardio and strength equipment.

Bucky did not expect to be such an immediate hit. In a handful of months, he grew a healthy crop of regulars – ace Natasha and her partner in crime pansexual Clint, Sharon and her girlfriend Maria, that ripped kid Teddy that smiled like a toothpaste commercial, David with the glasses and resting serious face, and the guy Tommy that was either his best friend or boyfriend that ran the track and broke elipticals every so often from working them so hard. Handsome Sam with the gap in in his front teeth.

About six months into his venture, Bucky had to admit that he couldn’t handle the gym with only Becca to do his finances, Bruce as the sole physical therapist, and legal-name-Brunnhilde-but-call-me-Val as the only trainer. Bucky installed an archery range and hired Clint. He brought on a massive guy called Thor to train. He welcomed power lesbian Pepper to the therapy part of Rainbow Cowboy, and punches-stuff America to help him man the front desk.

He both loved and loathed America.

She called him out on his bullshit, but on the other hand,

She called him out on his bullshit.

“You have stared at that guy every day since he started coming in,” America said, and cocked a brow at Bucky, accusing.

Bucky tore his gaze away from perfect Steve.

“I’m new in town,” he’d said, his first time in. “This is so cool. I can’t believe something like this exists. It’s amazing.”

And Bucky fumbled for words. He didn’t know why. He worked with lots of hot people. But Steve. Oh, Steve. He wanted to rail Steve into next week. And then make him dinner and cuddle under a blanket. And then rail him again.

He felt the heat creep over his cheeks at America’s accusation and hoped his train of thought wasn’t reading on his face.

“You could – I don’t know – talk to him, for example,” she said.

Bucky scowled. “I’ll talk to Steve when you talk to Kate,” he replied, and reveled in the pissed look he got right back. Two could play at that game, kiddo. I’m lusting over Steve of the smedium shirts on XL tits? You’re lusting over Kate-who-Robin-Hood-shot Clint’s arrow just to be a shit.

“That’s different,” America said.

Bucky leaned his elbow on the front desk. “Oh?” he said.

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. When you talk to Kate, I will talk to Steve. Or we can both sit here and be sad.”

It turned out that Bucky and America were equally as willing to sit behind the front desk being sad. The month wore on, autumn melting into the first snow of the season, gym-goers stuffing winter coats into their lockers before they stripped down for their workouts.

Steve...really stripped down.

Bucky moped about it.

“You have to stop playing fucking Orville Peck over the speakers,” America said.

“Why?” Bucky snipped back. “He’s thematically relevant. Rainbow. Cowboy. Sad gay cowboy.”

“You’re running a gym, idiot,” America replied crisply. “Unless you have trap remixes of Orville Peck you’ve been hiding up your ass, you need to play something else. Moping about Steve isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

“Pot. Kettle.” Bucky stuck his thumb out at Kate, who was heaving her body up with the pull-up handles in a purple sports bra, impressive abs out and proud.

Bucky and America stared at each other.

Bucky looked away first.

The season wore on, and new people appeared. Gamora with the black and purple hair. Peter who wore jerseys with Starlord on the back. Peter who started working out while his Aunt May went to physical therapy for a foot she banged up on a set of stone stairs. Teddy brought in his boyfriend, who was Elliptical Breaker Tommy’s twin brother, apparently. A shrewd-eyed kid named Eli came in with his grandfather, who hit it off with Steve.

And all the fucking while.

All the _fucking _while.

Steve’s tiny shirts got tinier. While the weather got colder, Steve’s sweatpants shifted into leggings. Sometimes he wore goddamn crop tops, and while America lusted over Kate’s abs, Bucky’s hands itched to get on Steve’s.

And God, Steve’s ass. Bucky wanted to put his face in it. Holy hell. Leggings did wonders for him. Bucky could feel himself getting stupider by the minute over the tiny clothes. Whether or not Steve noticed, he couldn’t say. Every time Steve swiped his membership card, he was unfailingly polite. He always said _hello_ and _thank you_ and _I hope you have a good day, Bucky_, and walked out into the snowy parking lot like he didn’t know what he looked like in those teeny tiny clothes.

“What the fuck,” Bucky managed, one Thursday evening.

America looked up from her magazine and popped her bubblegum. Instead of leggings, Steve opted for booty shorts. Booty shorts! In winter!

“Those should be illegal,” Bucky said. “I’m calling the cops.”

“You hate the cops.”

“They’re fascists,” Bucky complained, “and don’t forget the racism.”

“As if I could.”

The booty shorts began a new era of Bucky existing in horny agony. How one large man owned so many tiny shorts, Bucky couldn’t say, but Steve had a pair of itty-bitty shorts in every color of the rainbow. Some of them had racing stripes on the hips. One time he wore a pair that said _HELL_ on one cheek and _YEAH_ on the other.

“You know he’s doing it on purpose, right?” America asked.

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“You don’t? Are you serious?” America groaned. “He’s into you, you big buff moron.”

“My condition still goes,” Bucky said. “If you talk to Kate, then I’ll talk to Steve.”

America rolled her eyes. “How about this: if you talk to Steve, then I’ll talk to Kate.”

Ugh. Bucky would really like to see America happy. Despite all her badgering, or maybe because of it, he loved her. She deserved a girlfriend that baffled Clint with her sharpshooting skills and rendered America speechless with her strength.

A dilemma indeed.

When the time was right, Bucky would do it. He would talk to Steve. He would do it for America. America the woman, and America the country. Both of them.

In the end, a particular pair of booty shorts did it.

Steve arrived at his usual after-work time, greeted Bucky with a gentle smile and a soft, “It’s good to see you, Buck.” He disappeared into the locker room, and when he emerged, Bucky lost his entire mind.

They were _sparkly_.

Steve put his back to Bucky as he did his warm up on the treadbill, butt bouncing in a pair of stupid-small shorts that, across the ass in glittery letters, declared: _This machine kills fascists. _

Bucky watched, mesmerized, horrified, as Steve went through the motions of his workout in the most amazing pair of shorts he’d ever had the honor of looking at. Somewhere beside him, America was definitely giving him shit, but Bucky couldn’t hear her over the roar of his brain and dick becoming one incredibly stupid entity.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Bucky declared, when Steve wiped the sweat from his forehead with a gym towel and, when he caught Bucky looking, cast another one of those disarming smiles over at him. “Kid, you’re in charge.”

“Oh my God. Are you doing it? Are you actually going to do it?”

Bucky ignored her as he strode out from behind the front desk and followed Steve into the locker room.

“Hey, Steve?” he called, as the offending booty shorts disappeared around the corner.

Steve poked his head back. “Oh, hey, Bucky. Is everything okay?”

“I have to –” Bucky stopped. Why was his throat so goddamn dry? This was the worst. He was going to die in his gym, and then there would be cops, and America would have to tell them that the cause of death was anti-fascist booty shorts. “I need – Jesus.”

Steve stared. “You need Jesus?”

“I mean, probably,” Bucky said, “but that’s not why I – fuck it. Fuck it. You are very..._very_ attractive. What would you say to a drink sometime?”

Steve wheeled back. He sidled up to Bucky, face melting into a smile, and stood so close that Bucky could feel the post-workout body heat pouring off of him. Steve didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Bucky. The kiss wasn’t one of those innocent little pecks Bucky might have expected out of somebody as polite as Steve.

It was downright filthy.

Bucky whimpered as Steve licked into his mouth. Somewhere along the way, Bucky’s hand cupped Steve’s ass and hauled him close. Steve moaned at the touch. When he pulled back to breathe, he pressed his forehead to Bucky’s and said, panting, “I have a suggestion.”

“Yeah. Sure. Yes. Go ahead.”

“What if you fuck me,” Steve offered, “and then we can go get a drink after that?”

“That’s not the usual order.”

“Is that a no?”

“No, yes, no, it’s a yes,” Bucky managed. “But I don’t – when? I don’t exactly keep lube sitting around at work.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve said cheerfully. “I have some.”

“You – what?”

“Bucky, I have wanted this for weeks. I kept hoping you’d, y’know, get the message, but –”

“_What_.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have lube, and you’re fucking me. Okay?”

“Absolutely.”

The scramble from Steve’s locker to one of the walled-off showers ostensibly for people a little more shy, but mostly, goddamnit, somewhere people fucked (he _knew_ some of those dumbass kids had done it here, and they thought they were slick, the idiots, so Bucky didn’t want to ruin their fun. As long as they cleaned up after themselves, who cared).

Bucky slammed Steve into the wall. Steve’s palms smacked against the tile, and he laughed that giddy I’m-getting-laid laugh. Bucky sunk to his knees and peeled those tiny, glittery shorts down, just far enough to reveal the most perfect ass he’d ever laid eyes on. And, as he’d fantasized about doing for months, he palmed both cheeks, letting their weight fill his hands, and parted them.

Bucky licked a long stripe over Steve’s entrance. Steve jumped, just a little, but melted into it. As Bucky licked again, he spread his legs a little more. Eager. God, maybe Steve had wanted this for a while. Bucky didn’t know what to do with that information other than to double down, letting his tongue slide inside, relishing the taste of skin.

Steve made noises. He made delicious noises, soft gasps and pleased moans. He nudged his heel back against Bucky’s thigh and begged, “C’mon, Buck, please. I need you. I need you – please fuck me. I’m dying.”

And who was Bucky to deny him?

Bucky dragged himself to his feet. He palmed the bottle of lube he’d stuck in the pocket of his workout leggings. He wasn’t graceful, pouring too much lube into his hand before the container slipped out of his grip and skittered across the shower floor to the other end of the room.

“Can you do it with the,” Steve gulped in air. “The arm.”

“The prosthesis?”

The big, shiny StarkTech prosthesis Bucky got because he looked good enough to pose for an ad campaign that one time. He wasn’t complaining – it worked great, better than what most people had to work with.

“Sure. I can do that,” Bucky said, and slapped lube onto his metal fingers. He’d never fingered somebody with it before, and he had no goddamn idea how the lube was going to work with the joints, but whatever. If that was what Steve wanted, that was what Steve was going to get.

At first, Bucky only thumbed over Steve’s entrance. Steve twitched at the sensation and murmured, “Cold.”

“Need me to stop?”

“Fuck, no. Please keep going.”

So Bucky did. He pressed the tip of one finger inside Steve, and Steve pushed back impatiently, his body swallowing Bucky’s hand. His finger registered the pressure, feedback traveling up to his brain. Watching his hand disappear into Steve sent a shockwave of want through Bucky’s body, so intense his legs shook. Under his workout leggings, his dick ached, desperate for friction, for something, but he ignored it. He kept his attention trained on Steve.

Bucky blew all the air out of his lungs. He thought he was going to take his time with Steve, stretch him out all slow-like and teasing, but Steve begged so pretty. He said, “C’mon, please, I can take it. Just give me. Please.”

“Anything you want,” Bucky promised. He shucked the leggings off and threw them aside. His cock bobbed free, purple-red with need that he’d ignored because he wanted to watch Steve fall apart, and falling apart was what Steve was.

A blush spread under the collar of Steve’s tank top, up over his ears and down his ass. Steve’s cheek was pressed to the wall, his lips parted, his brows hitched together. His blue eyes sought Bucky’s, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. _Please_, he mouthed, though no sound escaped his mouth.

With his flesh hand braced against the shower wall and his prosthetic holding his erection steady, Bucky pressed into Steve’s welcoming body. Steve made an animal noise, something crossed between a growl and groan, so loud that Bucky might have hushed him if he didn’t want to hear every noise Steve made so badly.

Bucky drew out slow and rolled his hips up, low and dirty.

“Fuck me harder.”

“If you insist,” Bucky said, trying for snappy, but his voice came out all garbled and broken. God, he was an idiot, but he was an idiot in heaven, velvet heat clutching his cock tight. Pleasure swam in Bucky’s head, but he tried to keep afloat, wanted to make this good for Steve and his stupid booty shorts.

Bucky drove into Steve, using his hard-earned strength to slam Steve flat against the tile, boxing him in.

And he fucked. Skin slapped against skin. Open-mouthed, Steve’s face dragged up and down on the wall with every punishing thrust of Bucky’s body. Neither of them made any sense as they growled and gasped at one another, filthy noises and even dirtier words. Bucky looped his prosthetic around Steve’s belly to hold him in place as he drove into Steve’s body, unforgiving. He could feel the build of orgasm in his balls, but he didn’t want to get off yet, not until Steve got his.

Bucky shifted his grip and wrapped his hand around Steve’s cock, beautiful and long and heavy between Steve’s never-skipped-leg-day thighs.

Steve howled. Bucky only pumped his hand one, two, four times before Steve came on the shower wall. His orgasm ripped through his body, and he clenched around Bucky’s cock. Bucky didn’t need much longer than that – he’d been waiting, waiting to screw his way to bliss. It hit him so hard he had to bury his nose in Steve’s neck and bite down to muffle his cry.

For a long time, they stood in the shower stall, jelly-legged and chests heaving.

“Well, hell,” Bucky finally said.

Steve turned his head, sweating and smiling like a goof. “Good?”

“You know the answer to that.” Bucky slapped a palm against Steve’s flank, and Steve’s laugh echoed over the tiled shower walls.

They parted, though Bucky went reluctantly. Now that he’d gotten his hands on Steve, he didn’t want to stop touching him, ever.

“Since we’re in a shower, maybe we should clean up?” suggested Steve.

“Oh, yeah, God, I can’t go back out there like this,” Bucky said. He’d barely gotten out of his clothes. He still had a tank on, just like Steve, and there was come everywhere – oh, man, he didn’t have a spare set of clothes.

As though reading his mind, Steve said, “I have a couple changes of clothes.”

“Your clothes are tiny.”

“I was doing that on purpose. I wanted you. I still want you. I have normal clothes, too.”

Exasperated, Bucky said, “All you had to do was ask.”

Steve grinned. “Maybe. But it was so much more fun to watch you struggle.”

“Hey!”

And they laughed into each other’s skin.

They washed up together, still amazed by one another’s bodies, moving hands over muscle and through wet hair. The locker room was blessedly empty when they padded out without clothes. Steve offered a towel, and they rubbed down before dressing in perfectly normal clothes that Steve did, in fact, own.

Before Bucky ducked out of the locker room, Steve reeled him in for a kiss. This one wasn’t as dirty. It was gentler, and when Bucky drew back, Steve’s face was back to that big sweetheart look, all looks from under his eyelashes and shyness that hadn’t been even remotely present for the shower.

“Are we still on for the drink?” he asked.

Bucky kissed him. “Can’t wait.”

Steve left him with a final kiss, and Bucky left a couple minutes after to minimize suspicion.

America still looked him up and down.

“Wow. Really. At your place of business. You're covered in glitter, by the way.”

Bucky gave her finger guns and said, “Your turn.”

**

The following afternoon, Kate appeared in a tank that read _You are not immune to propaganda. _

Her shorts said _PROPAGANDA _on the back.

Bucky spread his arms out at America.

America sighed, rolled her eyes like she always did, and vaulted over the front desk to go get her girl.

Bucky gave her a thumbs up.


End file.
